The Untold Tales: Eve of a Mutiny
by Concepteur-Redacteur
Summary: One-shot: :pre-CotBP: :NOT slash: Aboard the "Black Pearl," mutinous tensions are rising. A certain boot-wearing pirate seeks council in Captain Jack Sparrow on matters of love and integrity.


**Author's Note:** Hello readers! As you may or may not know, this is my debut story! I've had the idea for this story bouncing around in my head for a long time and couldn't wait to finally put it out here! I've gone through several revisions to get it perfect.

**About my Pirates of the Caribbean fic series:** This story is the first of a developing series of fics that reveal scenes, happenings, and points of view thatwere never shown in the movies. I've tried to make all of the characters, settings, and events as realistic and canon as possible. That means: barely any OCs (if there are some they won't be main characters), a _rigorous_ study of speech patterns (Jack being the main focus), and an accumulation of knowledge about some of the more finite details of the Pirates movies.

**Story Requests:** If you, the reader, have any PotC characters, events, or points of view you wish you knew more about, I would love story requests! I'll write about anything that I feel I can retell passionately. Drop me an e-mail: I don't think I will ever own enough swag to purchase the Pirates franchise. Therefore, I don't own anything, any place, or anyone from the movies.

Alrighty, then! Let's get this story going, shall we? Read, enjoy, and (if you're a really nice person), review!

**The Untold Tales - Eve of a Mutiny**

Somewhere on the waters of the Caribbean, the _Black Pearl_ bobbed, cork-like, at the mercy of the sea. There was no lightning, thunder, or rain to debilitate the vessel's progress. However, a small number of night-shift sailors, or pirates in this case, were still manning important parts of the ship due to the onslaught of wind. Among these men was one Hector Barbossa, who grumbled at the helm as the wind consistently whipped his bandana into his face with a muffled _thwap_.

Belowdecks, another pirate was having a sleepless night as well. He paced the halls for a few minutes before deciding to seek council in the one pirate he could trust the most… or rather the one pirate he could distrust the least. After tightening the straps of his precious boots (his only prized possession), the pirate approached the captain's quarters and knocked.

His knock caused the moldy wood to splinter along the doorjamb (the _Pearl_ had been lacking in the plunder lately and thus lacking in repairs). The pirate took the liberty of letting himself in once the door had, basically, cracked itself open.

At the time, the captain's quarters aboard the _Pearl_ bore no signs of flagrancy besides a few pieces of badly chipped furniture and a very old cast-iron safe. The inhabitant of this astoundingly mediocre suit usually never wound up sleeping in the lice-ridden bed, and tonight was no exception.

The ship's captain had dozed off at the dining table. His upper body was slumped over the tabletop face down, dreadlocks fanned out in a disheveled fashion. His limp hand pinned a half-empty, dusty rum bottle to the table's surface. The pirate with the very nice boots had to suppress a small chuckle before tapping the captain's shoulder.

The tap was just hard enough to provoke a muffled grunt from its recipient. The captain was "tapped" with a fist the next time; he jerked upright, spluttering pieces of bedraggled hair that had been caught in his mouth. He roared out:

"Alright, you pug-faced pansies, fire at will! However, prepare to stick your ugly tails between your chicken legs and run, you bilge-soaked bas-"

The captain suddenly took notice of his guest, and slowly dropped his flailing hands.

"Ah, Bill," he said in weary disappointment, "It's jus' you." He lifted hid rum bottle to his lips as Bill began to speak.

"Jack, I'm awfully sorry to barge in-" (Bill had always retained the manners of his youth).

"I daresay one _should_ be sorry," Jack cut in, "when one interrupts his captain and comrade's splendidly vulgar dream. Bloody brilliant dream, too – the _Pearl's_ guns were singing, an' the Royal Navy was getting it's arse skewered, (as usual), an'-"

"Jack, I have something that's been bothering me-"

"Ah yes, don't we all, boy? As I was saying, the Royal Navy was-"

"Jack, I've been-"

"Getting it's arse skwered-"

"_Jack_-"

"(As usual), an'-"

"_Jack, listen to me, dammit!_" bellowed Bill to silence any further interruption. The youthful captain scowled, but silenced himself.

"I've been… well, I've been thinking about Claire quite a bit," said Bill.

"Oh," mumbled Jack after another swig of rum, "isn' tha' your mum?"

Bill slapped his own forehead in exasperation. "No, Jack… First of all, Claire's a she, not a 'that,' and second of all, she's the mother of my child… or at least she will be in a few months."

"Ah," responded Jack, "well then we would hope she wasn' your mum, wouldn't we?" After watching Bill sigh in frustration, Jack added, "You don't spend your evenings contemplating every fair-faced harlot you sleep wiv on Tortuga, do you? Because tha' would obviously be a sign of madness."

"Someone who is beyond mad himself probably shouldn't be handing out comments like that nature," scolded Bill, while trying to keep a straight face. "And I don't think of every harlot I slept with because Claire is different."

"Are her skills more finely tuned?" Jack questioned. "If so, you really must introduce me…" Jack grinned, flaunting a gleaming gold tooth.

"Jack, how drunk are you?"

"Apparently not enough."

Bill groaned the groan of a man who can't light his fireplace on a cold winter's night because of a fifty-inch thick wall surrounding the fireplace in question.

"Jack," Bill was pacing now, "Claire is different because we formed a… an emotional bond."

"Tha' happens wiv all women, my dear Bootstrap Bill. Every bleeding time you bed one they think you would immensely enjoy getting cozy wiv 'em every blooming time you set sail for Tortuga. Why do you think I get slapped about the _visage_ so much, eh?"

"Because you're a two-faced womanizer," laughed Bill. "But I'm completely serious, Jack, I… oh, hell… I love her."

"Oh, bloody _hell_, Bill!"

In the silence that followed, Bill gritted his teeth and Jack toyed with one of the trinkets braided into his mane. Jack's deep amber eyes focused on a patch of empty space in front of him as he murmured:

"I suppose I never expected tha' from you, mate… tha's very interesting…"

"I can't imagine how you couldn't possibly expect me to love someone…" Bill was genuinely miffed.

"Just because you're such a bloody good _pirate_, William," mumbled Jack, avoiding his friend's eyes.

"Oh, I completely understand, pirate's can't possibly love," said Bill, his voice caked with acidic sarcasm. "We're simply savage beasts, knaves, rogues, animals, heartless wads of greed and lust." Bill's eyes were flaming.

Contemplative silence from Jack.

"Let me tell you something, Captain Jack Sparrow. Maybe there's a difference between being a good man and being a good pirate, but I've seen men – and even women – who are both."

"My dear Bill," said Jack, his voice a mix of sorrow, pity, and exasperation, "there is very little decency left in the Caribbean, let alone the world. Should one search for righteousness, sure as I live an' breath he won't find it using an imaginary map." Jack had a rare moment of pensiveness. His eyes journeyed to a separate dimension; his ring-adorned fingertip traced the mouth of his rum bottle, in the same circular motion over and over. His voice managed to break through the barrier of thought, slowly bringing him back to the conscious world.

"There's a mutiny about to take place on this ship. No, William, do refrain from trying to tell me otherwise. Hector Barbossa will lead it, certain as hell. I gave you plenty of reason to wonder why I never made you me first mate. I knew Barbossa was a greedy bugger form the start; do you think I wanted him to have to kick you in the arse in order to get at mine? Tha' wouldn' be fair on you, mate."

Bill gaped at Jack in newfound respect. Jack merely continued as if he was talking about the weather:

"Anyhow, once I'm booted off this boat… ship… you don't put yourself in danger, savvy? Rogues such as myself get pent up in the Locker in the end anyway – the point of my life is instant gratification, rum, occasionally some good company, and mainly this ship. But you're slightly different. It's highly likely that you're mad, but either way, you possess the moral ability to consider the future of your fine strumpet and your child… well, for now let's call it your whelp. Seeing as Barbossa will eventually take the _Pearl_ to go get some swag, you are to ship every last piece of your share to them. Then all you have to do is whatever else it takes to pass the time until you can get to their location. Are we square?"

A warm grin spread across Bill's weather-beaten face.

"However, do not worry about my well-being whatsoever," Jack added. "I am definitely a captain because of my acute intelligence." He took another swig of rum. "Now away with yee, Bootstrap," he announced, "as captain of this fine vessel I have some very important drinking to see to."

Bill nodded and turned to go.

"Jack?"

"Eh, what?"

"You're more decent than you know."

"One can only hope, mate."

Outside the hull of the Black Pearl, the first drops of rain began to fall.

**FIN**


End file.
